


hold me tight and don't let go

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Series: Oaths and Promises [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And Sansa is trying to prove a point Ygritte-style, Cuz she's also thirsty af, Don't worry too much about context, F/M, First Time, For some reason ao3 keeps removing my recent parentage reveal tag, Ghost is a good boy, Post-season 7, Which is supposed to come before 'And Sansa...', short allusion to Ramsay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-16 23:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Sansa thinks it's time for Jon to prove his true allegiance...





	hold me tight and don't let go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queenofcarnage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofcarnage/gifts).



> Queenofcarnage sent me an ask on Tumblr about Jon and Sansa's sex scene mirroring his first time with Ygritte. I promised to write a drabble, but this is probably too long to still be considered as such... Not that I expect anyone to actually care about that :')
> 
> So this is what I came up with, I tried to keep the parallels with the Jongritte scene, while also trying to make it Jonsa post-season 7, but I didn't really think too much about the context for this one.
> 
> Title from the En Vogue song :')

"Ghost," Jon shouted, running after his direwolf as he darted away from him. The bloody beast had snatched up one of his boots and bolted from his chambers, fleeing down the hallway, refusing to listen to any of his calls.

The wolf turned a corner, and another one, Jon close behind. Suddenly he took another turn and vanished from Jon's sight. "Seven hells!" he muttered. When he reached the spot where Ghost disappeared, he saw the direwolf had entered a room and without further thinking, he stepped inside.

The room was warm and dimly lit, some candles on a sidetable giving off a soft golden glow against the darkness and a blazing fire reflecting off a large copper tub in the middle of the room. Ghost was sitting on his haunches, eyes closed as a delicate hand was scratching his ear. Ghost had led him into the Lord's Chambers, which were still occupied by Sansa.

As if conjured up by him thinking her name, she stepped into the light. Her hair was still wet from her bath, sticking to her temples and neck, and staining the drying cloth she'd wrapped herself in. It scarcely covered her, leaving her shoulders bare and not even reaching past her knees, revealing her long slender legs and more than an inch of her thighs. 

"Jon," she breathed, biting her lip, but she didn't seem surprised to see him. She clasped the cloth more tightly around her, but the position of her hand attracted his attention to her nipple, hardened by the water, poking through the fabric.

He swallowed heavily and forced his eyes back up to her face. "S-Sansa," he stuttered. "I'm sorry. It was Ghost, he-"

"It's quite alright," she interrupted him, offering him a sweet smile as she stepped closer. "I've missed you. You've spent so much time with your aunt. You haven't forgotten me, have you, Jon?" she added with a pout.

His mouth had gone so dry he couldn't quite find his voice.

She continued, looking down as she traced the lacings of his tunic with one finger. "They say you swore yourself to her, that she's your queen now."

He licked his lips, desperately forcing his brain to work and trying to figure out where this conversation was going. 

"Did you mean it when you swore those vows?" she asked, icy blue eyes meeting his. "What about your oaths to the North? To your family?"

 _I'm still fighting for the North, for Winterfell, for you,_ he wanted to tell her, but it was better to keep those thoughts locked inside. 

"Where does your true loyalty lie, Jon Snow?" she added, face softening. "Stark or Targaryen?"

"It doesn't matter," he said gruffly. "Once they all find out the truth, it won't matter whom I choose."

"It does to me," she whispered hoarsely, dropping her drying cloth. "Show me." 

He tried not to look, glancing at the door where Ghost was blocking his only way out. When he turned back to her, she pressed herself flush against him and slanted her mouth over his.

He pulled back in a last futile attempt to resist giving in. "Sansa," he warned her. "We shouldn't."

"We should," she insisted, but her voice stumbled over the second word and as he glanced up he could see the hurt at his rejection reflected in her eyes. That was what broke him. 

Finally, he allowed his eyes to take her in, her soft alabaster skin, her long curves and luscious rose-tipped teats. The curls at the junction of her thighs were darker than the hair on her head. He reached out to cup a breast, satisfied at the way it filled his hand perfectly. His other hand curled around the back of her neck and then he was kissing her.

She responded eagerly, tangling her hands in his curls, and he swallowed her delicious whimpers as he licked into her sweet wine-laced mouth. He trailed his lips down, down, down, tasting every inch of her still glistening skin until he was finally facing her mound.

He groaned as her musky scent hit him and she blinked down at him. "Jon, what?" she asked, but any attempt at forming a coherent sentence dissolved into broken moans as he parted her folds with his fingers and gently kissed her nub. He lapped at her like a desperate man, thirsting for more of that sweet heady taste that was Sansa, his cock hardening with every swipe.

Grabbing her hips, he drove her as close to the edge as possible, only using his tongue, and then started sucking on her pearl until she fell apart against his mouth, thighs quivering, and his name falling from her lips. 

He lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom, laying her down on top of the furs to remove his clothes. As he climbed onto the bed after her, she turned onto her side and he pressed himself up against her.

She curled a hand around his shoulder. "That thing you just did... with your mouth?" she asked, cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. "I didn't know men were supposed to do that," she confessed.

He chuckled. "Neither did I, but I liked doing it. Did you?"

She bit her lip again, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. "I did."

He dove in for another kiss and rolled on top of her, already aching and leaking, trailing his mouth down her jaw to suck on the soft skin of her neck. "Sansa," he rasped into her ear. "I want you."

"Yes," she breathed, and he slipped a hand between their bodies to position himself. Her fingers tightened on his upper arms, her nails digging into his muscles, her body tensing up beneath him.

He pulled back. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I want you," she choked out, eyes brimmed with tears. "But I'm scared."

He blinked, studying her face for a moment and flipped them over until she was straddling him, rubbing her arms until her body relaxed.

She gazed down at him, confusion and uncertainty written on her face. "Can it be done like this?" she whispered.

He smiled up at her, lifting her by the hips so she could sink down on him. He released a deep groan at the feeling of being engulfed by her wet heat, resisting the urge to buck up into her.

Gently he started guiding her movements. Her inexperience was visible, but endearing, and it excited some primal urge inside of him, a wild possessive pride at being the first and only to have her like this.

"You feel so good, Sansa," he told her, voice rough. "So tight."

"You- it feels nice," she answered shyly, bracing her hands on his chest. As she gained confidence, she settled into a rhythm and he took one of her hands to lace their fingers together. 

He watched as she rode him, whimpering and moaning, flushed tits bouncing up and down, pink lips parted, and eyes inflamed. He pressed his thumb to her nub, groaning as he saw himself move in and out of her.

When she cried out his name again, walls clenching around his cock as she reached her second peak, he sat up and gathered her in his arms.

He started thrusting up into her, her forehead resting against his and her arms laced around his neck. She moved with him and even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't have stopped himself from spilling his seed inside of her, his climax ripping through his body as her name fell from his lips.

He slumped back against the pillows, dragging her with him so he could shower her with breathless kisses. 

He held her like that, skimming his knuckles up and down her spine as he felt his cock softening and slipping out of her. 

"I need to brush my hair," she suddenly muttered and pushed herself up to climb off the bed. 

He sat up and watched as she walked to her vanity to retrieve her fine silver brush. "Come here," he told her, patting the space between his legs.

She threw him a questioning glance over her shoulder as she sat down again and he reached for the brush. "Let me," he explained.

She sighed contentedly as he worked through the tangles and knots of her damp hair. He brushed it until it was dry and shining like copper. When he'd finished, she pulled her tresses over one shoulder and pleated them into a thick braid.

She leaned back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her waist. "I wish we could stay here forever," she told him. "I don't ever want to leave this room."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nuzzled his face into the hair at her temple, not trusting his own voice to answer her and tell her how much he wished the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan the ending, but I suddenly remembered reading a headcanon about Jon brushing Sansa's hair after they make love for the first time and I've always liked that idea :)
> 
> I know I read it on Tumblr, but I can't recall who posted it first, so if anyone knows who it was, please let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
